


Something Borrowed

by Nos4a2no9



Category: due South
Genre: M/M, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-08-20
Updated: 2007-08-20
Packaged: 2018-11-10 22:42:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11136144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nos4a2no9/pseuds/Nos4a2no9
Summary: Ray Kowalski was sweating through his best suit.





	Something Borrowed

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Something Borrowed

## Something Borrowed

  
by Nos4a2no9  


Author's Notes: For slidellra on the occasion of her birthday. Thanks to the_antichris for an excellent beta, and to keerawa for the first line.

Story Notes: Can be considered a semi-sequel to my earlier story "Price of Distance," but familiarity with the earlier fic isn't essential.

SequelTo: Price of Distance

* * *

**Something Borrowed**  
  
Ray Kowalski was sweating through his best suit.   
  
He could feel the dampness spread under his arms and beneath the starched collar of his dress shirt, sweat trickling down his back and soaking through the thin material. It was too hot. Way too hot for Inuvik in August. It made him long for a cool shower and a pair of comfortable sweat pants.  
  
He didn't want to do this.  
  
"Fuck," he muttered, fingers slipping once again as he tried to tie his fifth half-Windsor. The crowd outside was getting restless. Their shifts and murmurs were audible in the small, hot vestibule that doubled as a dressing room. And the organist had already powered through three different arrangements of "The Long and Winding Road" (Fraser's choice, not his. Ray was more of a "Yesterday" guy).   
  
This was getting ridiculous.  
  
A soft rap at the door made Ray's hand slip again, and he was about ten seconds away from crumpling up the tie and chucking it at the door.  
  
"What?!" he barked. The door opened and Fraser slipped inside, looking fresh and cool despite the hot stuffiness of the church. The heat wave was making everyone in Inuvik grouchy and short-tempered but like always Fraser seemed adjust and keep going.  
  
"I came to see what the delay was." Fraser scanned Ray, quickly, and then the rest of the room. Whatever he saw made his mouth tighten a little at the sides. "Mrs. Vecchio is quite anxious for the ceremony to begin. She's worried that the souffl might spoil in this heat."  
  
"I know how the souffl feels." Ray wiped at his brow. "I can't tie my goddamn tie."   
  
He frowned at Fraser, who clearly hadn't had any wardrobe malfunctions. He looked great: dress uniform pressed, brass buttons shiny, every hair in place.   
  
"Give me a hand, okay?"  
  
Fraser nodded, and those tight lines around his mouth and eyes relaxed. He stepped closer and Ray caught a whiff of soap and leather.   
  
"Isn't this bad luck, or something?" Ray asked, trying to distract himself as Fraser's big, broad hands began work on his tie. Fraser's fingers brushed the soft skin under Ray's jaw and Ray cleared his throat. "Not supposed to see you until the ceremony."   
  
Fraser's eyes flicked up to his face. He smiled softly, warmly. Even after three years of seeing that smile, Ray's heart still gave an odd little ker-thump at the sight of it. For a long time, whenever it happened Ray thought he'd suddenly developed a heart murmur. Then he'd figured out it was just love.   
  
"I believe that particular tradition is reserved for brides and grooms," Fraser was saying, his attention fixed on Ray's tie. "And as you refused to discuss which of us was supposed to be the bride..."  
  
"Damn straight."   
  
Ray checked Fraser's handiwork in the mirror. It was perfect, of course. Ray had stopped trying to figure out that particular brand of Fraser-magic years ago. He adjusted the knot slightly, smoothing it down, and took a shaky breath. He could pull this off. He could do this. He _could_. If only his hands would stop trembling.   
  
"We don't have to-" Fraser frowned and bit his lip. "Our guests would understand if you wanted to delay for a bit."   
  
Ray felt his heartbeat increase a little, and it had nothing to do with any real or imagined heart condition. He hated the uncertainty in Fraser's voice, and the tight ache of it. Like something was strangling him but Fraser was determined to get his words out anyway.   
  
Ray'd heard that voice only a handful of times. Once after their first night together, Fraser's eyes sad and his voice hesitant as he said, "Ray, if you would prefer not to pursue this relationship..."  
  
And Ray had stopped that voice, killed it dead, grabbing Fraser and shutting him up with kisses, caresses, a blow job--anything to stop that voice, the one inside Fraser that said no one would ever love him. Would ever stay.  
  
He'd heard it once more, in their rented house in Fort Nelson, when Fraser had handed him the thin, final letter from the Ministry of Citizenship and Immigration. He couldn't even look at Ray as he'd said, in that voice, "I suppose you'll have to return to Chicago."   
  
And Ray had understood that Fraser was asking what else he'd have to give up. Ray had climbed on top of Fraser and made like a human blanket, all warm and snuggly and _there_. He'd pressed his lips against the pulse in Fraser's neck and said, "Nope, never. Never gonna let you go."  
  
He'd thought that voice was finished, kaput. They'd lived apart for two and a half years until the laws changed, and he'd thought that the engagement and moving up to Inuvik and all the plans for the wedding and the sheer fucking happiness written all over Fraser's face every morning meant something. Just meant that the voice was sleeping.   
  
"Hey," Ray said in his own rough voice, cupping the side of Fraser's face to stroke along his jaw. "It's just nerves, okay? I puked six times before the ceremony with Stella. I'm fine. And I want this," he said, catching at Fraser's big, warm hand, lacing their fingers together the way he did when they made love. "Want you, okay?"  
  
Fraser looked down at their joined hands and blinked rapidly, rubbing at his eyebrow with Ray's thumb.   
  
"Okay?"  
  
"Okay." Fraser smiled again. It was the secret smile, the one only Ray got to see.  
  
"So let's go get married."  
  
Fraser opened his mouth to say something but before he could, there was another knock at the door.   
  
"Benny?"   
  
Vecchio eased the door open, shielding his eyes. "Everything okay? You guys still have your pants on, right?"  
  
Fraser glanced at Ray and cocked an eyebrow. Ray slapped him lightly on the belly with the back of his hand, which made Fraser huff out a breath of laugher. "Yeah, Vecchio, we're G-rated. Fraser was just helping me with my tie."  
  
"What, that's not a clip-on?"  
  
"Nah." He kept his tone flat. He had a policy of not smiling at any of Vecchio's stupid cracks about his wardrobe, even if they were pretty funny sometimes. "I thought I'd spring for a real one. How often you get married, huh?"  
  
"You? At least twice. More, maybe, if Benny ever wises up."  
  
"Ray," Fraser interrupted, "Ray." And damned if he didn't make it perfectly clear he meant both of them. Like the pressed uniforms and the never-mussed hair, Ray didn't know how Fraser did it. "If you please, I believe we have a ceremony to attend."  
  
Vecchio smiled. He looked relaxed, healthy and happy under his Florida tan (which Ray thought made him look slightly like a carrot). While the guy was a pain in the ass sometimes, Ray could see--kinda--why he was Fraser's best friend. Italian Catholic and best man at a gay wedding was a tough thing to reconcile, but Vecchio made it seem like it was just another one of life's little irritations. Just like living in Florida with Ray's ex-wife and his Ma and Frannie and the kids. Vecchio might bitch the whole time but he'd get it done, and as Vecchio had said at the bachelor party last night, Ray and Fraser were family. So fuck religion. Vecchio'd been a little drunk when he'd said that, but Fraser had looked pretty happy anyway. Vecchio's blessing had meant a lot to him.  
  
"Ray," he turned just as Vecchio started to lead the way out through the door and down the aisle.   
  
"Yeah?" Ray thought his voice still sounded rough, and he blinked rapidly to clear the stinging little tears that threatened his rep as a tough guy. Fraser looked like crisp and clear and beautiful in the soft light of the vestibule, like something out of an old Fred Astaire musical. But the Mountie suit fit him better than any tuxedo ever would.  
  
"It's only ten feet, Ray."  
  
And Ray grinned. "But the fall'll probably kill us."  
  
"Indeed." Fraser's lip twitched. He brushed his lips against Ray's cheek and with one last, long look and a nod, he followed Vecchio out into the church.  
  
Ray hung back until the audience quieted down a little and the Inuvik Gospel Choir started in on the opening strains of `Ave Maria.' He pictured everyone waiting out there in the pews: his mom and pop, all of their old friends from Chicago, new people he'd met in Inuvik, folks Fraser had known since he was a little kid. And Fraser standing at the end of the aisle, ready to make their partnership official after all this time.   
  
Maybe the fall would kill them, but it was important every now and then to take a leap.  
  
Ray adjusted his tie, gave his shoulders a quick shake, and muttered, "Show time."   
  
He pushed open the door and stepped into the light. 

  
 

* * *

End Something Borrowed by Nos4a2no9 

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